


viridian & electric blue

by Knightblazer



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Bottom Hank Anderson, Drug-Induced Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hentai, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Mind Control, Plants, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, Size Difference, Tentacle Dick, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-19 08:56:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22241869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightblazer/pseuds/Knightblazer
Summary: AU where Connor is a carnivorous plant from outer space, and Hank is the man somehow foolish enough to care for him.Connor decides to return the favor when pollinating season comes around.(Please head all of the tags above and in the notes.)
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 29
Kudos: 217





	viridian & electric blue

**Author's Note:**

> **Full warnings:** Sex pollen + drugged sex, a good degree of mind control, tentacles (vines) ahoy, ahegao faces b/c I am already deep enough in this pit I've dug myself in, a smattering of breeding kink, and finally a blink it and you miss it mention of body modification - all of which are very much done without Hank's consent because Connor is a goddamn alien plant with no concept of human morals.
> 
> First and foremost, I cannot claim this concept as my own; the original idea of plant!Connor comes from the wonderful mind of Kiwi (@CeilingKiwi), whom many will know as the one who writes that long domestic Hankcon AU AKA [Domesticity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15706779). The other inspiration comes from Sana (@bigDBHenergy) who drew some really cool (and cute) renditions of plant!Connor [here](https://twitter.com/bigDBHenergy/status/1214792436674945025). For the most part all I really did was to borrow the idea and then proceed to spread my nasty all over it. |D;;;
> 
> If the tags and the warnings above were not enough of an indication, this fic is basically peak hentai hours, with all the problematic tropes that come with it. If any of the listed tags are not your cup of tea, feel free to go back on your browser and never click on this fic again.
> 
> For those who are sticking around, I hope you guys enjoy this filthy PWP as much as I had fun writing it.

‘Green thumb’ is not a personality trait that Hank would associate himself with. Not that he hates plants or anything like that—it’s just that for him plants have always just kind of… existed, more or less. It had always been more of a thing for other people as far as he was concerned.

Connor, of course, had changed all of that.

To be fair, Connor has changed a lot of things in his life, right from the very first day Hank had found him. It’s been long enough that the specifics elude his memory, but what he knows he’ll never forget the moment when he’d first laid eyes on Connor. He’d been enthralled by the unique coloring of his leaves, the way they moved so gracefully as they followed Hank, as if dancing on a breeze that only it could feel.

He’d brought it home then, Connor settling in nice and comfortable in one of those fake plastic plant pots that Hank would always see every time he was grocery shopping in the supermarket. It’d certainly taken him a bit to come around to the idea that Connor required blood instead of water, but he certainly isn’t one to question the oddities of Mother Nature. Besides, a few drops of blood across the week wasn’t going to be a big deal, especially for a big guy like himself.

Except, of course, it became a much bigger deal when once a week became twice, then every other day, then every single day. The volume of blood that Connor needed changed accordingly, too, as it (he?) grew bigger and bigger, so fast and so quickly that Hank would’ve been worried if his house was going to be overrun if he didn’t have other things to be concerned with, such as changing Connor’s pot to keep up with his rapid growth. It didn’t take long before the supermarket proved to be useless and Hank had to search for specialty gardening stores that could house a plant of Connor’s size.

Even with that, eventually there was a point where there was literally nothing that could keep Connor anymore, save for something custom made—and while Hank gave it some consideration, he put the idea down once he realized that the upkeep of changing said pots was just going to drain his bank account in record time.

Then there was also the problem that came with Connor’s rapidly growing size—where to place him. The windowsill was nice at first, when he was small, but as he got bigger Hank had to relocate him to a table, and later on a counter—and when he overgrew that, a spot on the living room floor. When _that_ started to get too much Hank had a bit of a panic attack because while nobody really comes to his house, he definitely doesn’t want to risk the chance of a delivery person seeing Connor through the door and potentially freaking out.

It takes a bit, but soon enough Hank finally manages to figure out something that’d solve both problems. He clears out Cole’s room (while trying not to dwell on the fact that _this_ is what finally made him do it) and tears out part of the floor and the foundations underneath it so that Connor can plant his roots there with more than enough space to grow out further if necessary.

Any guilt Hank felt over more or less destroying his son’s room vanishes the moment he’d help set Connor through the hole and sees the brilliant smile that crosses his face. ‘Green thumb’ is not something Hank would label himself with, but from the way Connor literally blooms when he sees what Hank has done sends a pulse of warm emotion in his chest—something he hasn’t felt since his son’s passing and the subsequent divorce that followed. It makes everything he’s done so far worth it. The blood giving, the handiwork he’s done to his own house, everything… Connor’s joy and the knowledge that he’s able to grow under Hank’s care and attention makes him feel like he’s doing something right in the world.

That’s all he needs.

* * *

“What do you need?” Connor murmurs in his ear, voice as sweet as the nectar that lingers on his lips.

Hank holds back a gasp even as he squirms at the smooth, cool glide of Connor’s leaves underneath his t-shirt. “You,” he chokes out, his mind too entranced by Connor to think of anything else to say. Connor’s always been beautiful to look at, but right now he looks even more magnificent than ever. It could be because he’s currently only highlighted by silvery moonlight, or the multitude of bright, electric blue flowers that have come into full bloom across his body. Hank’d watched them earlier in the evening, as they unfurled while the moon rose, and their pollen had spread across the room as they floated down so beautifully, twinkling like little stars.

They’d gotten onto Hank too, of course, since he had been in the room, but it was nothing a little washing off couldn’t fix. The smell, however, had been another thing entirely—though it really wasn’t much of an issue, since it was the weekend. Hank was pretty confident that the smell would dissipate by the time Monday rolled around and he needed to return to work. Besides, it’s not as if the smell was in anyway _bad_ ; it was actually very pleasant. A lot like the scent of Connor’s flowers, but muskier.

That same scent wafts to him now as Connor shifts, leaning backwards as he brings Hank closer with his vines. With the space offered to him Connor has grown so much bigger—far bigger than Hank, big enough to cover over half of the room. Connor has especially come to like latching his vines up in the ceiling; he can see them now in his peripheral vision, their bright blue flowers in full bloom too. He can feel the pollen between his toes as his feet drag across the floor, Hank feeling far too overwhelmed by all the sights and scents to focus on anything else besides Connor beautiful, handsome face.

It gets even more beautiful now that Hank is so close to him. Connor smiles once he brings Hank close enough for them to look at each other face to face, and Hank returns it with his own, entranced by the way Connor’s eyes seem to shift and flicker like a prism. Hank wonders if he’s dreaming; he doesn’t quite remember how he got here after going to the shower to rinse off the pollen, but then again he supposes it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters when Connor is smiling so nicely at him like that.

“You’ve taken such good care of me, Hank,” Connor coos out as his vines continue to touch Hank underneath his clothes, his cool leaves a soothing balm to the rising heat that Hank feels across his whole body. When had it become so hot? He doesn’t remember the recent nights being this hot.

The question bubbles up in his mind, wanting to come out, but it pops and vanishes when Connor leans in and opens his mouth, letting the sweet scent of his nectar mingle with that of his pollen, and it combines into something even more wonderful. Hank breathes it in, then sighs happily as he feels his worries and concerns vanish into the warm, pleasant haze that’s settled in his mind. He doesn’t remember when was the last time he’d felt this _nice_.

Distantly, he hears the sound of something being ripped apart, and then shivers when his shirt seems to vanish, leaving him in nothing else but his boxers. The cool night air helps with his still overheated him, but it's even better when Connor’s vines (and it's accompanying leaves) brush down the length of his back, their movements no longer confined. 

“You’ve given me your care, your attention, your blood…” More vines slither over to Hank and slide up his body, unnaturally smooth and almost slick as they wrap around his torso, keeping him upright when all Hank wants to do is to lean in all the way and press his whole body up against Connor’s far larger form. Two smaller vines crawl their way up onto his chest and curl around his nipples, where Hank feels the tips teasing them into further hardness by circling around the sensitive skin there, and he can’t hold back the whimper that escapes him no matter how hard he tries.

Connor takes his sound as an invitation to continue, and so keeps up the tease. Hank squirms even more in Connor’s vines, so entirely distracted from that touch alone that he almost misses what Connor says next. “You’ve shown how well you’ve done in taking care of me that it only makes sense for you to take care of my seeds. I know they’ll grow wonderfully under your care.”

Even in Hank’s clouded mind he can tell there’s something in those words that he should be concerned about, but he doesn’t get a chance to ask because the next thing he knows Connor’s mouth is pressed over his own, his free hand cupping Hank’s face as the sweetness of Connor’s nectar floods across his tongue. The taste of it is just as heavenly as had been the first time around, and Hank gulps it down as quickly as Connor pumps it into his mouth from the stigma of his pistil.

Hank feels the nectar filling him up as he drinks, running through his veins warm and sweet while heating up his body even more. Said heat is almost unbearable at this point, yet Hank can’t help but keep on drinking, as if he’s a man dying of thirst and Connor’s sweet, heavenly nectar is the only thing that can bring him back to life.

Eventually, Connor pulls away, retracting the pistil that he’d brought out from his throat in order to give said nectar. Hank whines as he watches it vanish, even as the excess nectar spills out from his own flooded mouth. It dribbles off his from chin and flows down his neck, and without any article of clothing in the way they travel further south, trailing down the length of his chest. The trail that it leaves has a distinct tackiness to it that Hank can feel even without touching, and with it comes it's delicious, heady scent that makes Hank’s mouth water. He can still taste the lingering sweetness of Connor’s nectar on his lips, and it only makes him desperate for more. He’ll do just about anything for it.

He attempts to voice out as much, but the only thing that he manages is a whimper when he feels one of Connor’s thicker vines slide up his body, brushing across all the parts of his skin that have been stained by the nectar, every touch sending pulses of pleasure through his whole body that leaves him unable to do anything but shiver and whine in need.

Finally, the vine reaches up to his face, and it takes minimal prodding from Connor for Hank to part his lips. The moment he does so Connor slides that vine into his mouth, bringing with it the taste of that sweet, delicious nectar that he must’ve swiped up from his body.

It should’ve disgusted him, but such a thought is so far away from his mind now it might as well be negligible. All that matters to him now is that he gets to have more of that wonderful nectar again. Hank sucks on the vine with single-minded desperation, clearly aiming for any bit of nectar that he can get. The scent of Connor’s pollen and flowers intensifies further, making his head spin from how potent the smell is. It’s just so much, and yet at the same time it still doesn’t feel like it's enough.

He lets out a low, needy moan, the sound of it muffled due to the vine still in his mouth. But Connor seems to get it, because he pulls said vine away (much to Hank’s dismayed whine) and uses it to cradle Hank’s head instead, supporting it so that Hank can keep looking at Connor’s eyes as the colors of his irises now twirl and sparkle like a kaleidoscope. It’s so pretty, Hank can’t help but marvel as he stares at them, watching how the colors constantly fracture and change and shift before his eyes. He’s pretty sure he could just stay here and look at them forever, if he had the chance to.

But he doesn’t, because soon enough Connor distracts him by rubbing a hand over the plump of his belly. “Your body is so big, for a human,” he murmurs, both the words and the touch sending another shiver down Hank’s spine. He’s always been self-conscious about his size, but right now the knowledge that Connor actually likes it is all that he needs. It feels good to know that Connor likes it. “I’m sure you’ll be able to house all of my seeds easily.”

He brings Hank even closer, then, so close that Hank can feel his cock pressed up against the thick, firm vines that make up Connor’s body from the inside of his thin, flimsy boxers. He groans at the contact and attempts to move his hips, his body alight with the sudden, single minded desire for friction and relief. With how good he feels it shouldn’t be surprising that he’s hard, but he hadn’t paid it much attention until this point.

Hank manages a few desperate, needy ruts before Connor notices what he’s doing and pulls him away just enough for their bodies to lose contact with each other. The act also causes his boxers—already half off by his earlier rutting—to slip out entirely, and they flutter to the ground, entirely forgotten while his cock stands up fully flushed and hard and aching. Hank keens at both the loss of friction and the relief of no longer being constrained, but Connor pays little attention to either of those as he studies Hank’s cock with the same level of curiosity as a child would have with an ant.

“So this is where you release your seed,” he hears Connor say, his fascination audible. A single vine, similar in thickness and firmness to the ones that have wrapped themselves around Hank, slithers out and wraps itself around the length of his cock. Hank mewls at the sensation, squirming again before letting out a cry at the sparks of pleasure that bursts in his vision when he feels that same vine squeeze around his cock with the gentlest amount of pressure.

In the distance, he hears Connor hum. “White,” comes the remark, “What a lovely color.” Another gentle squeeze, and this time Hank can feel the wetness of his own precome as it dribbles down from the head of his aching cock.

“Please.” The plea slips out between another needy whine, coming out entirely breathless. Hank doesn’t know exactly what he’s begging for. All he knows that it feels too good to stop.

Connor hushes him softly, like a parent trying to comfort a crying child. “Soon,” he returns, the promise heavy in that one, single word. “You’re almost ready.”

 _Almost ready for what?_ Hank would ask, if he had any capacity to think at all. And even if he did any thoughts are swiftly whisked away into the growing abyss of his pleasure as Connor continues to play with his cock. The vine around his cock is soon joined by another that busies itself with touching the parts of his cock that isn’t wrapped up, and then a third comes to continuously tease the head of his cock with light, maddening strokes after Connor sees Hank having a particularly loud reaction there.

At that point, it doesn’t take very long for Hank to get right at the edge of his orgasm. He whimpers as he shakes with the desperate need to come, the pleasure nearly overwhelming. “Please,” he hears himself say out once more.

Connor hums again, as if considering. “Let me check,” he says, and before Hank can consider what that response means the vines around his cock pull back, ignoring the man’s distressed whine as they shift to instead wrap around his calves and spread his legs apart with ease. Hank moans then, eyes rolling to the back of his head at that casual display of strength, another shiver wrecking through his body as his asshole gives an involuntary twitch.

It twitches again when Hank feels the tip of a vine stroke around the rim, and then he mewls when it dips into him ever so briefly, shivering yet again as that single gesture lights up a whole array of nerves he hasn’t felt for a very long time.

This time Hank can hear the pleased tone in Connor’s voice when he announces, “You’re ready, Hank.”

There’s no chance for Hank to even start to consider what those words mean this time around; as soon as Connor’s made his announcement the vines around his calves tighten considerably, and the next thing Hank knows is being hoisted up into the air with his legs bent back and spread out as much as he can physically manage. Hank attempts to move, finding the position rather uncomfortable for him, but finds himself firmly held in place by Connor’s vines. A small part at the back of his mind points out how this should make him panic and struggle, but that thought quickly evaporates away as his head is lifted up again to meet Connor’s sparkling, beautiful eyes once more. 

He sees the way Connor smiles, amazing and wonderful and just for him, and feels his body warm up in response to it. His ass twitches again, and Hank feels the beginnings of a dull ache starting to throb as a new wave of desire washes over him. He wants Connor—no, he _needs_ Connor.

“Please,” Hank begs, one more time, unable to think of anything else but the sudden, clamoring need to be filled. “Connor.”

The smile on Connor’s face widens ever so slightly, then shyly brings his gaze downwards. Hank follows where his gaze leads and watches as a small gap opens up in the area roughly between where Connor’s legs usually would be if he wasn’t rooted to the ground. A pistil extrudes out from the gap, similar to the one that Connor has in his mouth, except somewhat bigger and thicker, though definitely still fragile enough to not last if it were to be inserted into anywhere inside of Hank that isn’t his mouth.

But it seems like Connor has that covered; while the pistil comes out more vines come snaking out from Connor’s back, all of them varied in size and thickness. Hank watches as those vines slither up to curl around the pistil—gently, at first, with the smallest and thinnest of them, and then gradually increasing in both departments until the last one ends perfectly at the tip, leaving a small hole just enough for the pistil to release its contents when the time comes. 

Hank stares at the shape of it and only takes a second to realize that Connor has wrapped his vines around the pistil and molded to perfectly resemble a cock—his own cock, most likely. And it was going to go right into his ass.

He whimpers at the thought, his ass twitching again. He feels something wet sliding between the cleft of his ass, and a moment after that he can see something wet drip down onto the tip of Connor’s faux cock. 

Before Hank can think any further about what he’d just seen the thick, cloying scent of pollen and nectar hits his nose once more, and he moans as a new wave of heat runs through his body, eyelids fluttering.

“You’re ready,” Connor says one more time, and proceeds to lower him down. Hank moans, low and almost animalistic as he feels Connor entering his ass in one easy slide, doing it far too smoothly for it to be natural. But as it is Hank can’t find it in himself to care, especially not when it feels this good.

Connor only takes a moment to shift his vines around so as to hold Hank more securely, and once he’s done he starts to move Hank, lifting him up and down over him and thrilling as Hank writhes and mewls everytime he brings Hank all the way down to bring their bodies back together.

“You sound so pretty,” he says, and Hank whimpers at the praise even as Connor’s weird plant cock fucks him like nobody else ever has. All the little bumps from his vines continuously rub at all the sensitive nerves inside of him, and when Connor brings him all the way down the head presses viciously at his prostate, making him shake and cry as pleasure bursts in stars across his vision, bright and intense like Connor’s sparkling eyes.

There’s so much pleasure and sensation and everything that Hank can barely get a grip on anything at all, but perhaps it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Connor doesn’t stop fucking him, that he can keep feeling like this. It’s been so long since he could feel anywhere near this good and Hank doesn’t want to lose it. He never wants to lose this, lose Connor, everything. Connor is all that he has now in this life that he’s barely living in.

Hank doesn’t know if he’s said anything out loud, but he hears Connor hum softly, and vines crawl up his chest to tweak and play with his nipples once more, the sensation making Hank mewl.

“All this time, you’ve taken care of me,” he says, voice so gentle and kind and loving—a complete contrast to how hard he’s fucking him. “Now it’s my turn to take care of you, Hank.”

Inside of him, Hank feels Connor’s cock throb, and his own neglected one twitches in response. He’s so hard now that the head of his cock is a deep, angry red, and his balls feel so tight it almost seems like they’d burst at any given second. He wants to come so badly Hank thinks he’ll do just about anything to make it happen. 

“Connor,” he moans out again, and this time there’s no way that Hank can hide the desperation in his voice. “ _Please._ ”

The electric blue flowers all over Connor’s body seem to shiver and thrill at the sound of Hank’s voice. “I’m going to fill you with my seed, Hank,” Connor says, his voice low and sensual. “You’ll take it all, won’t you?”

Hank nods mindlessly in response, lost to the pleasure and promise of what Connor says and does. He wants everything that Connor gives to him. Everything, if it means always feeling this good. He’ll take it all.

Connor’s returning smile is almost angelic. “Then take it,” he commands. “Spill out your seed, Hank, and replace it with mine.”

With those words Connor brings Hank down onto his cock one last time, and the pleasure that zips through him is intense enough that it unfurls everything inside of him. Both his mind and his vision whites out as Hank opens his mouth to scream out his orgasm, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he comes in thick, wet splurts all over both himself and Connor. He empties himself out while Connor fills him back up, and the wave of hot, glorious heat in his ass makes him shudder further apart all over Connor. There’s nothing but pleasure and heat and Connor and if he could Hank wants it to just be like that forever and ever.

In a way, Hank supposes he kind of has it. When he regains enough of his senses Hank finds himself held close to Connor’s body, and the plant-vine cock is still buried deep inside him.

“We’ve only just begun, Hank,” Connor starts before Hank can say or ask any questions. Hank feels the head of Connor’s cock press up against his prostate again, and when he gasps Connor bends down to press their lips together once more. He slides his pistil into Hank’s mouth, humming as he pumps more nectar into Hank’s mouth for the man to drink. It only takes a second before Hank succumbs to the sweet, addictive taste of it, and he moans as he drinks it with just as much desperation as before, eyes glazing over as the pleasure intoxicates him all over again. “By the time pollinating season is over, you’ll be filled with nothing else but with my seed.”

Those words should be worrying, if Hank could bring himself to care. But he doesn’t care. Not when he feels so warm and comfortable and good, with the taste of sweet, heavenly nectar on his lips and the knowledge of having Connor’s precious seeds within him sending a pleasant tingle through his whole body in a way nothing else can ever replicate. 

Connor’s hand trails down from his chest and gut to wrap spindly, thin fingers (vines) around his rapidly hardening cock, and Hank moans weakly around the pistil that’s still in his mouth, giving him all the delicious nectar he could ever want or need. Maybe he might be giving Hank too much at one go, but that’s alright. They still have time.

Pollinating season has only just begun.

**Author's Note:**

> i sure did write this, yep.
> 
> anyway.
> 
> due to the nature of this fic i will instead plug my ~saucy adult twitter~ **@tasonado** where you are free to follow me as long as you are above legal age. i post there once in a while when the urge of hornt swells up within me which probably happens more often than you think.
> 
> and to the ones who have read through this whole fic, i salute you. you guys are the true MVPs.


End file.
